The Future
by Andalusia
Summary: Takes place after the Book 3 ending. Zuko becomes Fire Lord, does NOT get hitched with anyone, whatever that Maiko kiss in the trailer might indicate.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar, the Last Airbender. So don't sue me.

Prologue-A Flashback.

"Hey, you down there. You've got company!" the guard laughed, and unceremoniously tossed a figure down the slope. Katara rushed forward as the figure hit the ground with a thud. A groan escaped his lips. She reached forward eagerly, then withdrew in shock.

It was Zuko. The scar was unmistakable, even though his face was bruised and bloodied. He stared at her, blinking, confused. "You!" she exclaimed, backing several steps away. He winced at the volume of her voice, and shook his head groggily.

"What are you doing here? You're one of them! Oh, I see!" she shouted, anger and disgust twisting her face." It's a trap, isn't it? When my friends come, you'll be here waiting for them! You…you bastard! You evil…"

Zuko raised his hand, wearily, stopping her in mid-curse. "Quiet, please. My head hurts as it is. Your shouting isn't improving anything. So just…shut up." She opened and closed her mouth in amazement, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Believe me, I'd choose a better trap for the Avatar, something that doesn't involve me getting hurt, something that definitely does not involve me getting anywhere near you, if I can help it," Zuko continued, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Katara watched, dumbfounded, as he closed his eyes. Then she found her voice. "It's a trick, then. You're here to gain information from me. No, you're here to gain my trust, so you can get close to Aang and capture him. Right?" Her tirade went on for several minutes, during the course of which he pointedly ignored her.

Unable to elicit any reaction from him, she spun and sat several yards away. Personally, she was relieved that she was no longer alone, but still…did her only companion have to be him?

An hour passed without a word being exchanged. Katara furiously avoided looking at Zuko, who ignored her and concentrated on his meditation. The bruises on his body ached dully now, which was not a marked improvement from the fiery pain earlier. At least his headache was gone.

Another half an hour passed without incident, and he became aware of a slight sobbing sound behind him. He turned slightly, risking a glance at the girl. She was crouched in a ball shape, her hands wrapping her legs close to her chest. And she shook slightly. She was crying.

Oh God.

Zuko lacked experience in these matters. He rarely mixed with children his own age, let alone females. The crew of his former ship was all men, as were the army troop with which he had trained while still at the palace. But while he lacked experience, he did not lack common sense, and common sense told him that ignoring this would be very unbecoming of a gentleman, much less a prince.

"Um." She spun around. He was standing a little ways behind her, a little awkwardly. "Go away," she managed in a strangled voice. Damn it! Why did she have to start crying, now of all times? And in the presence of a bastard like him.

"Uh, all right," he managed, a little surprised, and hurt, at the vehemence of her statement. Of course, he thought bitterly, he was a Prince of the Fire Nation. And scarred. No one would want him to comfort them. He sat down again, trying his utmost to push those thoughts out of his head.

The tone in which he answered caught her off guard. There was, what? Hurt, in that voice? Pain, maybe? So what, she thought savagely. He deserved it.

It became darker as evening flew on. The crystals, their only source of light, seemed to dim as the day moved on. It soon degenerated into pitch black darkness. And it was cold. Very cold. Katara was used to cold weather, but the time spent in warmer climate had spoiled her, if that was the right word, and the lack of thick clothing was getting to her. She did not want to admit it, but she was scared. No light, no friends around her. She felt lonely, and hated herself for it. _I wonder what they are doing now?_

And then, there was light. It wasn't bright, but it chased the darkness away. She turned her head a little, and saw that Zuko had edged closer to her, holding a flaming ball in his hand. He caught her gaze, and she turned away quickly. She was, she had to admit, grateful for the light.

He edged closer, and still she didn't tell him to go away. He was mildly surprised by that. Perhaps he should…no, she might refuse., but then again, did he really care? Rejection was the story of his life. His father hated him, his own sister hunted him, his mother had abandoned him…

"Um. It's, uh, cold, so, here. Take it. Put it on." He handed his coat over to her. She made no move to accept, and his heart sank. No surprise there…

"Thanks," she said gratefully., taking the coat and draping it over her shoulders. It was cold, after all. No sense in refusing it. Pride was all well and good, but cold was cold. And the look of mild surprise on his face was gratifying.

Zuko glanced around, and found some old rags, and dead branches. He gathered them, carefully ensuring that the fireball still flamed. It was difficult to keep it going for much longer, and he gratefully tossed it at the pile, lighting a small, merrily burning fire. He felt oddly happy, happy that she had accepted his coat.

"You can sit by it. I'll be over there," he muttered, and walked to the far side of the cave. Katara watched him leave, once again finding herself in the midst of conflicting emotions. She hated him, hated what he stood for, hated what he represented. She hated him for the trouble he had caused her and her friends. And, she realized, she hated him for whatever evil the Fire Nation had done. His was the face she had imagined whenever she saw the effects of the war.

"No."

"What?" he asked.

"No need for you to sit over there. You can sit here." There, she had said it. Some part of her didn't believe that she had just said what she said, but another was…relieved.

And another part was glad that he complied.

"Thank you," he whispered.

They sat in awkward silence; Katara gazing at the fire, Zuko gazing at a rock. This was a new experience, sitting with the enemy. And then…

"Where does it hurt?" she asked. "What?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. She smiled slowly, as if she didn't believe it either. "You keep wincing, so I assumed…"

"I'm fine," he replied brusquely, and instantly regretted it. The loom of hurt that flashed on her face made him feel guilty. Stupid, stupid pride! "Fine," she said simply, turning away. Another period of awkward silence ensued. _I was only trying to help_, she thought furiously. _He didn't have to snub me lie that_.

"It's my ribs," Zuko muttered finally. She glanced up sharply, and he quickly turned his gaze away from her. Now she'll probably ignore me., he thought to himself.

"Here, let me take a look," she said, hopefully. He glanced at her, met her gaze. Hesitantly, he removed his shirt. The bruises on his skin were evident, as was the lean muscular frame of his body. She bit her lip nervously.

He watched as she waved her hand slightly, drawing water from a small flask at her side. "Relax, this won't hurt a bit," she whispered, as she moved the floating water from the Spirit Oasis over his skin. She had been yearning to try it out, and had decided to use a little on him. It was, after all, repayment of sorts. He did make a fire for her.

He watched her as she waved her hand over the bruises, staring dumbfounded as the waterbender worked her healing powers on him. He had heard of this ability from his uncle, but here, to see this girl, an enemy, actually touching him…

"Thank you," he whispered, as she turned her attention to his face. It struck her that he was actually quite young, now that the topknot was gone, replaced by thick hair. She hadn't noticed it before, had just seen the fact that he was an enemy. Never had she actually seen him as a person. A man. And now that she was actually looking, she saw that the cold, arrogant, angry price was gone, replaced by a confused, tired young man.

She was actually quite beautiful. Of course, he had seen her face before, had in some subconscious way known that she was beautiful, but his previous encounters with her was in battle, with mixed emotions ranging from anger to hatred. And sometimes, fear. But now, he felt gratitude, and gratification, two emotions that he was unfamiliar with.

"It was noting. I've seen worse," she replied, suddenly wishing that there was more injuries to tend. At least she could continue doing something.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier," she said suddenly, and he froze. "Perfectly understandable," he replied, a little frostier than intended. "And I'm sorry too. I was…rude," he added, by way of apology.

She nodded, and glanced away. There was nothing more to say, for both of them. They just sat in silence, glancing at the fire. But Zuko still felt restless inside. The fever, the dream…he was a changed man. And he wanted someone to know that. Other than his uncle, of course.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She raised her head, a questioning look on her face. "You've already apologized for being rude," she said. "No, not that. I'm sorry," he paused, taking a deep breath, then plunged onwards," I'm sorry for everything. All the trouble I've caused you, and the Avatar. For all I've put you through…I'm sorry."

She stared at him, surprised at his words. Did he really think apologizing would make things better? Did he…That particular line of thought was derailed when she saw the expression on his face. Pain, disgust, horror. Loneliness.

"But why? Why did you hunt us like this? Do you really enjoy bringing pain, and suffering? Why do you want to capture this world's last remaining hope for peace?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes." I've seen what this war has done. People's lives disrupted, homes destroyed…Families uprooted!" The tears were flowing freely now. " I lost my mother to this stupid, senseless war! She was killed in a Fire Nation attack!"

"I see," he said quietly, "Then we share something in common."


	2. The Fire Lord's Palace

Chapter One: The Palace of the Fire Lord

Just so you know, I'm making a few assumptions. One, Zuko becomes Fire Lord. Two, he stays single. Three, Katara stays single.Four, and the most important one...Zutara is canon.

Anyway...

Chapter One: The Palace of the Fire Lord

The palace of the Fire Lord was impressive. It was the sort of palace that inspired gloom and dread, power and awe. It boded. There was simply no other word for it. It wasn't gothic and rundown, nor were its features crumbling. It was solid. It was the sort of place which one would associate with political intrigues, murder; plots discussed in hushed whispers and carried out in the dead of night. It was forbidding in a way. And it was a perfect home for the ruler of the Fire Nation.

Against the moonlight, the tallest tower looked like a shard or splinter, jutting upwards sharply as if to pierce the moon. It was lit…yellow, orange lights from lamps and torches and candles. Warm, yet cold, and definitely uninviting.

The palace gates were impressive by themselves; huge iron gates that swung open ponderously and noisily, with the screeching and clanging of metal, as well as the steady clicking of the machinery used to move them. The carriage moved inwards, betraying none of the hesitation felt by its occupant. A lone diplomat, a representative of the Avatar and his allies. Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

It was unusual for diplomats to arrive in the evening, much less at such a late hour at night. But circumstances had not been kind to them; their ship was forced off course by a sudden storm, thus delaying their arrival to the capital of the Fire Nation by several hours. And upon arrival, the carriage that was supposed to meet them had to be resummoned, resulting in another hour's delay. And as was custom, any diplomat arriving was to present himself, or herself, to the Fire Lord, before securing any accommodations.

And so it was that she stepped, with a certain degree of hesitation, out of the carriage. The courtyard was brightly lit, and the flames from the torches and lamps glinted off the polished armour of the troop of soldiers standing at attention around them. They were masked, which meant one thing…Firebenders.

"Welcome," a man stepped out. He was tall, dressed in the customary red of the Fire Nation, his grey hair neat, his face impassive. He bowed, his posture not in the least humble, but displaying a certain arrogance. "You will follow me." The tone of command was not lost on her, but she complied with no complaints. Around her, the Firebenders closed ranks in a tight formation, marching stiffly, without a step out of place.

The hallways of the palace were bathed in golden light, comfortably warm, as opposed to the cold outside. Glancing at her escorts, Katara smiled briefly. _Escorts_. _More like captors._

And then she entered another hallway. This was wide, and lined with guards…more Firebenders. Portraits of Fire Lords long dead hung on the walls. Glancing around, Katara saw some that she recognized…Azulon, Sozin….and, to her shock, Ozai. Fire Lord Ozai, his countenance as proud as she remembered. The arrogance, the self assurance…the artist had captured it well.

"The Fire Lord will receive you now." And the doors swung open to reveal the throne room within.

The Hall of Fire was exactly the same as she remembered. Hot, oppressive…a testament to the men who had ruled from here, the rulers who had plotted the murders of thousands and thousands in a mad quest to rule the world. The pillars and walls were gold, but in the light, it was red, as if the blood of the thousands had been used to paint them.

And the Throne of Fire was as it was five years ago. It was surrounded by flames…flames that swirled around it, as if in joyous adoration of the man inside. And she could see the man, but only barely, a dark shadow behind the flames, sitting straight and erect, proud and stiff.

Fire Lord Zuko.

There he was, behind the curtains of flame. Their enemy, their ally, the prince who had pursued the Avatar, betrayed the Avatar, only to rejoin the Avatar once again. The scarred prince, who was now sitting on the throne of the man who had scarred him and branded him a traitor. Fire Lord Zuko.

Her memories of him were hazy at best. Five years had eroded them, despite, or perhaps because, of her feelings. And what were her feelings? Old feelings of fear, anger, rage. And gratitude, just a little, for the part he had played in ending the war. And nervousness, at the fact that she was seeing him once again.

The introductions were brief, for the past history between her and the Fire Lord was fairly well known. She bowed slowly, gracefully, never once taking her eyes off the throne in her own show of defiance.

"Welcome, my lady, to the Fire Nation."

His voice was different. More assured, stronger. Aristocratic. The flames swirled dangerously high for a moment, and then swiftly parted, as the Fire Lord stepped out to receive his guest.

"It's been a long time," he said neutrally, his eyes glancing appraisingly at her. _She has changed_, he observed to himself, allowing a shadow of a smile to appear, briefly, on his face, before the carefully prepared mask of indifference came back on. _A little taller, for one thing. And she was a girl no longer, but a woman_.

"So it has, Fire Lord," she replied, regretting the tremor in her voice almost at the same instant that the sentence was spoken. "My father has asked me to convey his greetings. He regrets that he is unable to be here himself." The small pain that she felt as she uttered those words did not show in her bearing, in her tone of voice. Days of sea travel had helped her to mentally steel herself for this meeting. She would not show any weakness in front of the Fire Lord.

The Fire Lord nodded slightly. The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe was sick…how sick, Zuko did not know. But sick enough to force him to stay home and send his daughter in his stead. The Fire Lord had learnt tact. Dealing with the discontented nobles of the Fire Nation required a lot of it. And tactfulness told him that this was neither the time nor the place nor the moment to enquire more.

"It is late," he said suddenly, "And you have had a long journey. We can begin discussions tomorrow, when you are fully rested. You have my thanks for observing our customs." He turned, and the wall of flames swirled and parted once more, rising to receive him into its fiery embrace.

Katara bowed again, and made her way out. For the first time, she realized that she was alone in the hall…alone with him. No guards, no advisors. Just herself…and him. And now, she had been dismissed.

And she was grateful for it.

Her rooms were spacious, well furnished, with the customary red and black of the Fire Nation. Her belongings lay in a corner, unpacked…she had dismissed the servants almost instantly. She glanced around, and slowly made her way to the bed. At first she sat down. It was soft, comfortable. Welcoming.

And soon, she was asleep.


End file.
